


Back to the Delta Quadrant: "Helping Hands," "Vissi d'Arte," "Knowing We Must Say Goodbye"

by fmlyhntr, Penny_P, Rocky_T, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [40]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crew as Family, F/M, Family Member Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 04:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmlyhntr/pseuds/fmlyhntr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_P/pseuds/Penny_P, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: Three interludes, set between the final scenes of "Cyclops" and the events which take place in "Disciples of Altruism" and "Planetfall."  The first two stories, "Helping Hands" and "Vissi d'Arte," were posted on ASC in 2003 and 2004 respectively. "Knowing We Must Say Goodbye" is a brand new story and has never been published anywhere before."Helping Hands, " by Rocky(August 2003)--Two months into the journey of the task force to the Delta Quadrant, Miral Torres Paris makes a new friend."Vissi d'Arte" by Christina(June 2004)--Dr. Mark Lewis Zimmerman goes to the holodeck, expecting to play a round of golf. His plans change after he arrives  and receives a pleasant surprise."Knowing We Must Say Goodbye" by Penny(new, 2019)--The task force is in orbit over New Earth when Geordi La Forge, captain of the Odyssey, receives  visitors bearing unexpected news.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1385569
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	1. "Helping Hands"--Part One

**Author's Note:**

> As always, we must acknowledge our debt to Gene Roddenberry for his vision of a possible future for humanity after we've not only reached out to the stars, but have become part of a community of many alien races in the galaxy. Paramount/Viacom/CBS own the rights to the franchise, but thanks to Mr. Roddenberry and the many talented people who have followed him, Star Trek, in all of its manifestations, lives on in our imaginations as well. Thank you all.

**VOYAGER VIRTUAL SEASON 7.5 - Episode 40a  
  
  
** **Helping Hands  
  
**

** _A Voyager VS 7.5 Adventure  
  
_ **

**By Rocky**

  
**_  
Voyager II--The Delta Quadrant--September 2, 2381--Stardate 57669.8  
_**  
B'Elanna took a sip from her cup, barely noticing her coffee had long since gone cold, and frowned at the engineering report. Those numbers didn't look right at all; she made a mental note to tell Lieutenant Percy, the engineer in charge of Gamma Shift, to run the diagnostic on the matter-anti-matter flow once more, this time making sure to pay attention to deviations--  
  
"Mama, is it time yet?" said a high-pitched voice at her elbow, effectively breaking her chain of concentration.  
  
B'Elanna bit back a sigh and looked at her daughter, who gazed back expectantly. "No, Miral, it's not." She returned her attention to her report.  
  
"But I wanna go to the holodeck! You promised!"  
  
"It's still too early," B'Elanna said, trying to be patient. "I'll tell you when it's time. Now, I just need a few more minutes to finish up my work, so why don't you go and play with your puzzles in the meantime?"  
  
Miral stuck out her lower lip. "I don't wanna play! I wanna go to the holodeck!"  
  
"And we will, honey, I promise. Just not yet." B'Elanna picked up her PADD, hoping to forestall any further discussion.  
  
"When?"  
  
Mentally counting to ten, B'Elanna said, "When I finish my work. Miral, take your stuffed targ and go to your room--"  
  
"I wanna stay with you," Miral said. She leaned her head against B'Elanna's leg. "Please?"  
  
B'Elanna reached down and affectionately smoothed her daughter's curls. She and Tom usually worked split shifts, trying to find the optimum balance between parenting and carrying out their duties on the ship. Due to some recurring problems in Engineering, however, for the past week she'd only seen Miral after the little girl was in bed for the night. Despite her present annoyance, B'Elanna was very glad to see that Miral had missed her, and she was looking forward to some quality time together as well. "All right, sweeting, you can stay here with me but you have to be a _very_ good girl and let me finish my work. OK?"  
  
"OK," Miral said, nodding vigorously. She scrambled onto a nearby chair, her legs dangling over the edge, and folded her hands primly in her lap.  
  
"Good," B'Elanna said, and began perusing the report once more. Ah--there it was, in the second phase of the theta-wave radiation--  
  
"Now, Mama?"  
  
B'Elanna slammed the PADD on the desktop a little harder than she intended. "No, not yet. I'll tell you when it's time to go!" She exhaled sharply and scrolled down past the first set of graphs, looking to see if there was a pattern--  
  
And became aware of a steady thumping noise. "Miral!"  
  
"Yes, Mama?" Miral replied, continuing to swing her legs back and forth.  
  
"Stop kicking the desk."  
  
"OK."  
  
The influx ratio was showing a standard deviation of 0.0047 microns per rotation--  
  
"Now?"  
  
B'Elanna closed her eyes, sighed deeply, and then turned off her PADD. "Yes, Miral, we're going now."  
  
"Yippee!" Miral yelled and started to dash for the door.  
  
"Just a second," B'Elanna said, reaching out and grasping the little girl's arm. "Do you have to go to the bathroom first?"  
  
"No," Miral said, struggling to get free.  
  
"Fine. Let's go." B'Elanna caught sight of the chronometer and shrugged. There was still another fifteen minutes until their reservation began, but being a parent had taught her that sometimes you just had to give in to the inevitable. And maybe, if she could persuade Miral to walk slowly, they wouldn't arrive at the holodeck _too_ early.  
  
*  
  
B'Elanna's hopes for a leisurely stroll through the ship were instantly dashed. No sooner had the door to their quarters opened, than Miral had broken free of the restraining maternal hand and run down the corridor. "Miral! Wait!"  
  
But the little bundle of energy showed no signs of hearing or even slowing down.  
  
"Kahless, that child!" B'Elanna muttered and took off after her. Fortunately, her own legs were much longer and she was confident she would soon catch up to her. She rounded a corner, and sure enough there was Miral--  
  
\--running smack into someone coming from the other direction.  
  
"Miral!"  
  
The little girl literally bounced off and ended up on the floor, where she sat gasping, apparently too stunned to even cry. B'Elanna rushed over, but the officer who had been on the receiving end of the collision had already bent down and scooped Miral up in his arms. "Are you all right, little one?"  
  
"Miral!" B'Elanna exclaimed at the same time. "You know better than to go running down the corridors like that!" She transferred her gaze to the officer, recognizing the stern craggy features of the Klingon Tactical officer. "Lieutenant Ishtak, I'm so sorry."  
  
Miral stared intently at the man holding her. She reached out and tugged on the dark coarse hair arrayed over his shoulders and touched one of his forehead ridges. "Uncle K'Nar?"  
  
He smiled. "No, little one, my name is Ishtak, son of Gorok, of the House of Klaa. What's your name?"  
  
"Miral Paris," she said proudly. "My mama makes the ship go and my daddy flies it."  
  
"Ah," Ishtak said. "And what do you do?"  
  
Miral looked to her mother for help. B'Elanna said, "The only adult Klingons she's met have been my mother's family--that's probably why she thought you were her uncle." She paused. "I'm sorry she ran into you like that, she's just very excited--"  
  
"We're going to the holodeck," Miral announced. "Mama said we can play Flotter."  
  
"It's a Terran children's program, Flotter and Trevis," B'Elanna explained, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. She didn't really know Lieutenant Ishtak very well; in the two months of their voyage, she'd only exchanged a few words with him outside of ship's business. Not that it was any of his concern, she inexplicably felt compelled to defend her choice of entertainment for her child.  
  
But Ishtak said only, "Yes, I'm familiar with it, Commander. It fosters the imagination and promotes skills of problem-solving." He set Miral on her feet and winked. "It's also a lot of fun."  
  
B'Elanna stared in surprise.  
  
Ishtak straightened up. "I will leave you both to your holodeck adventure. Good afternoon, Commander, Miral."  
  
"Bye," said Miral. She tugged on her mother's hand. "Come on, Mama, let's go."  
  
"Sure," B'Elanna replied, shifting her attention back to her daughter. "The turbolift is just a little bit further on. Do you want to tell the computer which deck to go to?"  
  
"Yes!" Miral said happily, and darted ahead. B'Elanna sighed and followed.  
  
*  
  
Two days later, in mid-afternoon, the Paris family entered the Observation Lounge. It was a favorite gathering spot for many of the crew, as its large floor-to-ceiling viewports gave a stunning panorama of space. Although the individual stars could be seen better at regular warp, the distortion effect of the transwarp corridor only added to the experience. Surprisingly, even though Alpha shift had just ended, the lounge was not crowded.  
  
Expecting Miral to head straight for the transparent aluminum and press her nose against it as she always did, B'Elanna was surprised to see her daughter instead veer off to the side. "Miral!"  
  
At the same time, Tom called out, "Where are you going?"  
  
A man with a distinctive profile turned his head at the sound of their voices. "Commander Torres, Commander Paris, Miral," Ishtak said gravely, his tone at odds with the twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you," B'Elanna said awkwardly.  
  
"Not at all." Ishtak inclined his head graciously toward some nearby chairs. "Please, join me."  
  
"I don't want to impose--" B'Elanna began, but the point was made moot as Miral immediately climbed on Ishtak's lap.  
  
"What's that?" she asked, pointing at a silver brooch pinned to his left sleeve.  
  
"It is my sigil, which says what house I belong to."  
  
"Where is your house? Can I go there?"  
  
Ishtak shook his head. "I meant it says what family I belong to."  
  
Miral absorbed this for a moment. Then spying the PADD on the table she said, "Read me a story."  
  
"Why I don't tell you one instead?" Ishtak said, turning off the PADD and moving it to one side. B'Elanna caught a fleeting glimpse of the screen before it went dark; it was a picture of a Klingon woman and two children. "What would you like to hear?"  
  
"Rumpelstilskin."  
  
"I don't know that one very well--how about I tell you another story instead?"  
  
"With a princess?"  
  
"Hmm." Ishtak stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Lukara wasn't exactly a princess, but she came from a fine and noble family." Miral settled back in the crook of his arm, her eyes never leaving his face as he told the tale of the courtship of Kahless and the Lady Lukara, and how they withstood the attack of five hundred warriors at the Great Hall of Qam-Chee. Ishtak was a good storyteller; his deep voice and dramatic gestures added greatly to the power of the story.  
  
Tom raised his eyebrows and whispered, "B'Elanna, do you know this one?"  
  
"I've heard it," she said briefly. At Tom's inquiring glance she added, "My mother once told me it's considered the greatest romance in Klingon history."  
  
"All that blood and fighting, yeah, I can see why a Klingon would think so," Tom said teasingly. B'Elanna blushed as she thought of what Tom had said the time he'd found her reading "The Warrior Women at the River of Blood."  
  
As Ishtak approached the climax of the story, B'Elanna saw with surprise that he had gathered quite an audience. Several others in the room, not just Miral, were listening spellbound to his every word.  
  
"Did they live happily ever after?" Miral wanted to know, after Ishtak had finished.  
  
"They went on to share many more glorious adventures together," said Ishtak. He handed Miral to Tom. "Did you enjoy the story, little one?"  
  
"Yes," Miral said and nodded vigorously. "Tell me more?"  
  
"Another time," Ishtak promised. "If your parents agree, that is."  
  
"Are you kidding?" Tom said. _"I_ want to hear another one, too!"  
  
Ishtak threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "We have a deal, then!"  
  
As he turned to leave, B'Elanna touched his arm hesitantly. "You have a real talent for storytelling," she said. Ishtak smiled. She found herself adding, "I haven't heard that story in many, many years, but I don't think I ever heard it told so well."  
  
Ishtak looked as though he understood what she hadn't put into words. "You are very welcome, Commander."  
  
*  
  
"I'm trying it now, Captain," B'Elanna said, her hand hovering over one of the main power consoles in Engineering. "Watch for the flicker."  
  
Janeway stood before the panel, watching the readout intently. "Go ahead, Commander." The wave pattern danced over the monitor, and there, in the lower right hand corner, almost too quickly to be seen, there was a definite flicker. "Yes, I see it!"  
  
B'Elanna nodded to the nearby crewman, who immediately shut down the console. "That's what's been causing all those fluctuations."  
  
Janeway shook her head. "This couldn't have been easy to discover. In fact, I'm amazed you were able to do so without knowing precisely what you were looking for."  
  
"We were on the right track all along, thinking it had to do with the theta-wave radiation, but even so, it took some doing," B'Elanna agreed. "But we've got it now. There's no doubt about it."  
  
"And now we also know why _Odyssey_ hasn't been experiencing a similar problem."  
  
"I'll send a message to their chief engineer and tell them what to be on the lookout for," B'Elanna said.  
  
"Good. And be sure to tell Geordi that this shows his ship is _not_ in any way superior to ours!" Janeway added, a glint in her eye. B'Elanna grinned at the reference to the ongoing 'friendly competition' between the two Starfleet captains.  
  
"I just want to check one more thing, as long as you've got that system off-line." Janeway picked up a hyperspanner from a nearby tool pouch and stepped in front of Delia O'Brien. "Ensign, may I?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am!" said Delia, almost stuttering in her eagerness, as she hurried to get out of the captain's way.  
  
Janeway bent and poked around a little bit in the console's innards, and then straightened up. She handed the tool to Delia and dusted off her hands. "You might want to check the junction on that plasma relay as well."  
  
At B'Elanna's nod, Lieutenant Vorik immediately came over to see to it, as Delia and some of the other engineering crew exchanged surprised glances.  
  
B'Elanna bit back another grin. "Do you have time for a cup of coffee before you have to be back on the bridge, Captain?" she said.  
  
"There's _always_ time for coffee," the captain said immediately. "Especially if you're buying."  
  
As soon as the door to the Chief Engineer's office closed, Janeway permitted herself to chuckle. "Well, you've certainly got them well and truly cowed. Unless it was my presence they were reacting to out there."  
  
B'Elanna handed her a steaming cup of raktajino. "I don't think very many junior officers are used to seeing the captain get her hands dirty," she said diplomatically.  
  
Janeway rolled her eyes. "Just another reminder of how different this tour of duty is from our last."  
  
"When we were spread so thin, everyone got used to pitching in as needed," B'Elanna agreed, leaning back and sipping her own drink. "It's been two months, and I still feel like Engineering is over-crowded every time I walk in."  
  
"It's nice to be adequately staffed," Janeway said with a smile. "I take it everyone is working out all right? No problems?"  
  
B'Elanna sighed. "Nothing you're not aware of already."  
  
Janeway stared. "You're still having problems with Murphy? I thought you'd managed to deal with that."  
  
"As per Tuvok's advice, I've assigned him to details where you wouldn't think he could get into any trouble, but the man's a sheer magnet for bad luck. If something can go wrong, it will, just as long as he's nearby," B'Elanna said grimly. "I've thought about partnering him with a more experienced officer so there is someone to keep an eye on him at all times. But that's a pretty drastic step--singling him out this way--even if we do have the personnel for it."  
  
"Other than the 'accidents', how is the rest of his performance?" Janeway asked, her concern plain to see.  
  
"Tuvok suggested I fill out weekly performance reviews for Ensign 'Lucky.' And it's a good thing, because this way I know that he's not a _completely_ unmitigated disaster." B'Elanna sighed again. "He's competent enough, I guess, but it's when he tries to 'impress' and do more than he's supposed to that things tend to go wrong."  
  
"Well, keep him on a short leash," Janeway advised. She put down her empty cup and rose to her feet. "Was there anything else, B'Elanna?"  
  
"No..." B'Elanna hesitated. "Captain, what do you know about Lieutenant Ishtak?"  
  
"Ishtak?" said Janeway. "Why?"  
  
"I was just wondering about him, his background," B'Elanna said quickly. "I mean, there aren't many Klingon officers serving in Starfleet."  
  
"You mean, is he an exchange officer like Lieutenant Auraan?" Janeway asked, her lip curling slightly as she mentioned the Troyian's name. "No, Ishtak is regular Starfleet. His last posting was as Deputy Chief of Security on Starbase Four."  
  
"I see."  
  
Janeway seated herself once more. "As I recall, he did start out in the Imperial Klingon Fleet. He rose rapidly through the ranks, finally becoming a gunner aboard the _Pagh_, a Vor'cha-class cruiser."  
  
"That's pretty impressive."  
  
"It gets more so. The _Pagh_, along with two other ships, was destroyed in one of the early battles in the Dominion War--well before the Breen became involved. Most of the crew lost their lives, either when their warp core exploded or when their escape pods were caught in the backwash. Ishtak was in one of the few pods to be recovered, but he was severely injured, not expected to survive."  
  
B'Elanna shook her head. "What happened next?"  
  
"He was picked up by an Oberth-class vessel after drifting for weeks. They brought him to the medical facilities at one of the nearby starbases. He was in a coma for several months, but eventually pulled through. By then, things had gotten pretty bad as far as the war was concerned. Starfleet was desperately short of personnel; there had been so many losses. Even support staff--with no prior combat experience--were being pressed into service. As soon as Ishtak was back on his feet, he volunteered."  
  
"I'm surprised he didn't want to go back to his home, or at least back to the Empire," B'Elanna said.  
  
"His vessel had been destroyed, his squadron decimated," Janeway reminded her. "He himself wasn't entirely healthy. I suppose he felt an obligation to help beat back the Dominion and figured he was most useful where he was."  
  
"And afterwards, to stay on in Starfleet? What about his family?"  
  
"I really don't know. His personnel file lists him as being 'unattached', which is surprising for a Klingon of his age. Perhaps his family were also lost in the war." Janeway sighed. "That's all I can tell you. If you want to find out more, try asking Tuvok."  
  
"Tuvok?" B'Elanna said, surprised. "Why?"  
  
"I understand they work out together, a few times a week."  
  
B'Elanna's eyebrows rose at this unexpected information. A Vulcan and a Klingon didn't usually gravitate to each other unless they had professional interests in common. "Maybe Tuvok's keeping tabs on his old position," she said, thinking aloud. "It can't be easy, watching someone take over the job you held for so many years."  
  
"No, it isn't," Janeway muttered.  
  
_"Sickbay to Janeway"_  
  
Janeway tapped her comm badge. "Janeway here. What can I do for you, Doctor Zimmerman?"  
  
_"It's 1605. We had an appointment, Captain," _the EMH said, his tone faintly scolding.  
  
Janeway started guiltily. "Yes, Doctor. I assure you, I haven't forgotten. I'll be right there."  
  
"Problem?" B'Elanna asked. "I thought by now both he and Dr. Brown had more or less settled their differences."  
  
"They're not clashing as frequently as they used to," Janeway said with another sigh as she rose to her feet. "Ever since the Doctor was 'persuaded' to spend his off-duty time in his quarters or in other parts of the ship instead of breathing down Brown's neck in Sickbay. But this has nothing to do with mediating any 'turf battles'--I'm due for my monthly fertility suppressant."  
  
B'Elanna stirred uneasily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."  
  
Janeway quickly said, "Well, as much as I've enjoyed this, I must be on my way. Give Miral a kiss from me."  
  
"I will. You and Chakotay should come by for dinner sometime," B'Elanna said.  
  
"That would be great," Janeway said. "We'd love it."  
  
*  
  
  



	2. "Helping Hands"--Part Two

*  
  
Tom eased himself into their quarters, limping painfully. "Aaaah," he moaned, as he collapsed on the couch.  
  
"Tom!" said B'Elanna, jumping to her feet, alarmed at his appearance. "What in the world happened to you? Are you injured?"  
  
"Just my pride," Tom said. He rubbed his shoulder and winced. "For the most part."  
  
"But how? What were you doing? I thought you were going to exercise in the gym. Don't tell me you did this lifting weights!"  
  
Tom shook his head. "I didn't end up going there after all. I saw Ishtak on the way. He had a bat'leth with him, said he was going to do some sparring on the holodeck. He asked me if I wanted to join him, and I thought, sure, why not?"  
  
B'Elanna sighed in exasperation. "For one thing, you're out of practice--when's the last time you touched a bat'leth, let alone did any serious moves with one?"  
  
"Yeah, it's been a while, but supposedly you never forget." Tom attempted a smile. "You know the old expression, 'just like fighting with a bat'leth'?"  
  
She sat down beside him and leaned over to examine a particularly colorful bruise on his jaw. "It's 'just like riding a bicycle.' And anyway--"  
  
Tom shied away from her touch. "So anyway, we went in and he ran this training program, the Battle of Three Turn Bridge--"  
  
"I've heard of it," B'Elanna said. "I've even played it, once or twice. It's based on an actual incident in Klingon history."  
  
"That's what Ishtak said."  
  
"It's not exactly a cakewalk, under the best of circumstances. Which level did you play at?" B'Elanna asked.  
  
"Five."  
  
She blanched. "FIVE? Are you crazy? Were you trying to get yourself killed?"  
  
"The safeties were on," Tom protested feebly. "There was no question of _that_ happening." He winced again. "Though yeah, I did manage to bang myself up pretty good."  
  
"Have you been to Sickbay yet?"  
  
"No, not yet." He forestalled her protest. "I promise, I'll go soon. Just as soon as I get up the strength to deal with the Doc's telling me off." He brightened. "Or maybe I'll get lucky and Zeke Brown will be on duty instead."  
  
"You're going to have to deal with me telling you off, instead," she said sharply. "After a year away from any sparring whatsoever, you should have known better than to jump straight into a full-blown battle scenario, especially at that level! Tom, I know in the past you were quite proficient, but even at your best I doubt you could have--"  
  
"Yeah, I did think I was pretty good," he said with another groan. "But it didn't take long into the program till I felt like a real amateur. Ishtak was nice about it, though. He asked me several times if I wanted to stop, or take it down a level or two, and I know he deflected at least a few blows that were headed my way."  
  
"He probably didn't expect a human or someone less than a full-blooded Klingon to be able to show much proficiency in the area of bat'leth fighting," B'Elanna said, her words clipped.  
  
Tom looked at her in surprise. "No, it wasn't like that. Ishtak wasn't at all condescending. Granted, he did look amused, but it must have been pretty funny seeing me knocked flat on my ass like that." Tom flexed his arm cautiously. "On the contrary, Ishtak seemed to approve of the fact that I was displaying an interest."  
  
"For Miral's sake?" B'Elanna asked, unable to keep the scorn out of her tone.  
  
"I don't know, maybe." Tom looked at her for a long moment. "B'Elanna, is there a problem?"  
  
"No," she said as she got up and went over to the desk. Straightening a stack of PADDs, she said, "I just wonder why Ishtak is interested in spending so much time with members of our family. How often has he come by to see Miral this past week? And now inviting you to join his workout?"  
  
"Maybe the guy's lonely," Tom suggested. "I don't know how many friends he's made on _Voyager_. After all, it's not as if there are other Klingons around." He flashed her a grin. "You could say we're the closest thing."  
  
B'Elanna flushed angrily. "I'm only half-Klingon, and Miral is just a quarter," she retorted, though she knew the Klingon genes predominated in many areas. "Or maybe Ishtak feels honor bound to try to educate us a little better in all things Klingon, because Kahless knows, we're all so woefully ignorant."  
  
Tom limped over to her and put his good hand on her chin, tilted it up until she was looking at him. "Now why would you say something like that? B'Elanna?"  
  
She was silent for a long moment. "I don't know, there's just something about him..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"This is going to sound silly, but I get the feeling that Ishtak disapproves of me," she said, a bit shame-faced.  
  
"You're right."  
  
"I am?" she said, surprised. "You think he _does_ disapprove of me?"  
  
"No, I think you're being silly." Tom shook his head. "He doesn't know you, so why should he be passing judgment on you? Nothing in his behavior so far has indicated anything of the sort. B'Elanna, from all appearances Ishtak is just a nice, friendly person who enjoys telling stories to our daughter." He paused. "I don't know what's bothering you. Unless it's because they're _Klingon_ stories."  
  
"I don't have a problem with that," she insisted. "Look, I wasn't always comfortable with that sort of thing in the past, but now--"  
  
"I didn't think you did--especially not after our trip to your relatives on Qo'noS last year. It's just the way you're reacting--" Tom shifted his weight to his other leg and nearly lost his balance. "Oh, God. I think I tore something. B'Elanna..."  
  
B'Elanna moved quickly to his side, relieved the conversation was over. "We'd better get you to Sickbay."  
  
*  
  
Tom came out of Miral's bedroom and carefully closed the door behind him. "I think she's finally asleep," he announced to their guests. "Maybe now we can have a little adult conversation with our meal."  
  
"I don't know how to break it to you, Tom," Janeway said, "but you aren't the reason we were so eager to accept your dinner invitation." Her lips quirked in a smile. "Well, since the main attraction isn't here anymore, I guess we can pay some attention to her parents now."  
  
"Gee, thanks," Tom grumbled.  
  
"Oh, sit down and be quiet," B'Elanna said, giving him a look. She passed the salad to her husband. "Chakotay was just telling us about some of the plans he and T'Pel have been making with the other members of their team. It sounds pretty interesting."  
  
"Of course, things are subject to change once we arrive," Chakotay said. "We won't have a complete picture of what we're dealing with until we get to the Delta Quadrant."  
  
"And meet with the Vidiians," Janeway added. She took another sip of wine and then wiped her lips with her napkin. "But we agreed, no discussion of any ship's business tonight."  
  
"At least with a civilian present, we won't have to worry that this will turn into a mini-staff meeting," Tom said as he speared a cherry tomato with his fork. Turning to the former first officer, he said, "Seriously, Chakotay, how are you adjusting to no longer being in Starfleet?"  
  
"It's been more than a year since my resignation, Tom," Chakotay pointed out. "So it's not exactly a new experience anymore."  
  
"True, but being back on _Voyager_ again is bound to make a difference," Tom argued. "I'm sure it isn't an easy transition."  
  
"Actually," Chakotay said, helping himself to another stuffed mushroom, "there are advantages to not being on duty any longer. For instance, when the comm beeps in the middle of the night, I can safely ignore it."  
  
"Not to mention rolling over and falling back asleep when there's a red alert," added Janeway with a smile as she patted her husband's hand. "Though you'd think you could show at least a _little_ concern..."  
  
"I know that you and Tuvok will have the situation well in hand," Chakotay said, laying his hand over hers and squeezing it. "Really."  
  
B'Elanna caught the look the two of them exchanged. She wondered if there was something more going on beneath the surface than their words implied.  
  
Tom had clearly picked up on the slight tension as well. "Well, one advantage to your situation, Captain--being married to someone who's non-Fleet--is that when you _are_ called in the middle of the night, you don't have to worry about accidentally picking up the wrong uniform jacket on your way out."  
  
"Like Tom did a week ago when there was some trouble with the navigational array," B'Elanna put in, and chuckled. "I wish I could have seen you on the bridge, valiantly trying to get the jacket closed."  
  
"I must have missed this," Janeway said, amused.  
  
"I'm surprised you even got the jacket on, Tom," Chakotay said. "It's not like you and B'Elanna are anywhere near the same size."  
  
"I didn't try to put it on until I got into the turbolift," Tom said. "When the call came I just grabbed the first jacket I saw and ran." He shook his head slowly. "You should have seen the look on Ishtak's face when the doors opened and he caught sight of me wrestling with the thing. As I walked by to get to my station, he remarked he hadn't seen such a performance since Konan the Contortionist--when he was a boy."  
  
Everyone laughed appreciatively. "Ishtak's got quite a sense of humor," Chakotay said. "So much for the assumption that all Klingon warriors are grave and reserved."  
  
B'Elanna snorted. "Whoever said that has clearly never seen a bunch of Klingons carousing over a keg of bloodwine."  
  
"But sober, it's another story," Chakotay said. "Have you ever seen Ishtak holding court in the Mess Hall? He really knows how to entertain a crowd. He's got an apparently unlimited supply of stories and jokes."  
  
"We've heard his stories," Tom said, leaning forward. "Well, some of them, at any rate. He's been spending quite a bit of time with Miral over the past few weeks, telling her Klingon legends and such."  
  
"Yes, Miral's taken quite a shine to him," B'Elanna said, idly playing with some crumbs. "He seems to enjoy her company as well."  
  
"Who wouldn't? She's an adorable child," Janeway said warmly.  
  
"And it's nice that she has this connection to Klingon culture," Chakotay added. "There's nothing like learning your people's stories and myths straight from the source."  
  
B'Elanna stiffened. "Yes." She rose abruptly. "Is everybody finished? How about some dessert?"  
  
"Here, let me help you with that," Janeway said as Tom began clearing the plates.  
  
Tom followed B'Elanna to the kitchen alcove. "Are you all right?" he whispered.  
  
B'Elanna busied herself punching in the replicator codes. "I'm fine. Why?"  
  
"I don't know, you just seemed a little...off back there."  
  
"It's nothing." B'Elanna lifted out the cheesecake. "Do me a favor--take this out while I get the coffee."  
  
"Sure," he said. B'Elanna heard the exclamations of delight in the other room that greeted the appearance of dessert. She hesitated for a few moments, and then went out to join them.  
  
*  
  
The red alert klaxon switched off abruptly, and the Security Chief's voice came over the comm system. _"Attention all hands. This concludes our security and tactical drill. You may stand down from battle stations. Ishtak out."_  
  
B'Elanna nodded to the engineers of Beta Shift as they resumed their regular stations. She was pleased with the way her people had responded 'under fire', but of course the final consensus would come later when all the performances were evaluated by the captain and first officer.  
  
_"Bridge to Engineering."_  
  
"Torres here."  
  
_"You'll be interested to know that your department performed very well in the recent drill, Commander,"_ said the Captain. _"These are just preliminary results, of course, but according to Ops, Engineering had the highest overall efficiency rating."_  
  
B'Elanna smiled broadly. She knew Janeway was already anticipating mentioning the results to Geordi La Forge and hearing how the _Odyssey_ had stacked up during their own drill. "Thank you, Captain." She gave a thumb's up to her staff. "Good work, everyone!"  
  
A sudden clatter behind her made her jump. Turning, she saw Ensign Murphy's sheepish expression as he bent to pick up his toolkit and collect the scattered tools. She opened her mouth, and then reconsidered what she had been about to say. Even the hapless Ensign hadn't done too badly during the drill. She patted his arm in passing. "Nice job, Murphy. Uh, I mean during the drill, not--"  
  
The disbelieving smile that dawned on his face made B'Elanna feel a bit guilty. Murphy looked as though he'd never heard a compliment before. With a start, she realized he probably never had--at least, not from her. Granted, his work was usually _not_ praiseworthy, but that was still no excuse. 'Catch them being good' was a phrase Tom had found in an old 20th century manual on raising children; when you got down to it, training young officers wasn't really much different. Everyone needed to feel appreciated, and it was often more effective in raising performance than simply punishing misdeeds.  
  
"Thank you, Commander!" Murphy said, gesturing so excitedly he nearly dropped his tools once more. "And I promise that next time, I'll do even better!"  
  
"You do that, Ensign," B'Elanna said, wondering if perhaps she should have just left well enough alone. The last thing she needed was for Murphy to try to impress her again...  
  
Banishing any further thoughts along those lines, she turned to Nicoletti. "I'm off to pick up my daughter. I'll see you all tomorrow."  
  
"Good night, Commander," Nicoletti said.  
  
Humming under her breath, B'Elanna headed for Sickbay. As was customary, during a red alert--drill or otherwise--Miral stayed in Sickbay, the most secure part of the vessel, under the watchful eye of Tuvok's wife T'Pel, who also doubled as Miral's teacher during less stressful times.  
  
"Mama!" B'Elanna braced herself as a whirlwind of energy tore across the room and into her waiting arms.  
  
"Hello, sweeting! How are you? Were you a good girl during the drill?"  
  
"Yes, I was!" Miral said excitedly, wriggling to get down.  
  
"She was, indeed," added T'Pel as she came over and handed Miral's small backpack to B'Elanna. "We spent a very pleasant 2.7 hours together. We have made further progress in our study of the Terran Standard alphabet. I also believe Miral has several new drawings to show you."  
  
"That's great," B'Elanna said. "I can't wait to see them, Miral."  
  
As Miral pulled out her pictures and explained what they depicted, B'Elanna mouthed "Thank you" in T'Pel's direction.  
  
"There is no need to thank me, Commander," T'Pel said. "She is a bright and imaginative child, and I enjoy spending time with her."  
  
"These are hardly ideal conditions, though," B'Elanna said, thinking back to _Voyager's_ encounter with the planet-eater not too long ago. "Having to deal with her fears during a battle--"  
  
"I wasn't scared, Mama," Miral protested.  
  
"Well, this was just a drill," B'Elanna said, "not a real battle, but--"  
  
"I'm not scared of a real battle."  
  
B'Elanna bent down so her face was level with Miral's. "Remember, honey, we talked about this. That it's OK to be scared. Sometimes during a fight, the ship is going to shake a lot and people are going to get hurt. Maybe even die. But you know Daddy and I--and Captain Janeway--are doing everything we can to keep you safe."  
  
"But if we die, we go to Sto-Vo-Kor," Miral said, drawing the syllables of the name out carefully.  
  
B'Elanna straightened in surprise. "What did you say?"  
  
"If you die in a fight, you get to go to Sto-Vo-Kor and be with Kahless and all the other 'orious dead.'"  
  
"Who's been telling you this?" B'Elanna demanded.  
  
"Ishtak. He said--"  
  
"We'll see about this!" B'Elanna said angrily and prepared to march out the door. T'Pel placed a restraining hand on her arm.  
  
"Commander," the Vulcan woman said quietly. "I am sure Lieutenant Ishtak intended no harm--"  
  
"Telling her stories about Sto-Vo-Kor?" B'Elanna said. "Giving her the impression that it's _good_ to be killed in battle? That this is something we should all aspire to?"  
  
"Considering the circumstances in which you are currently bringing up your daughter, it is far from the worst lesson she could be learning," T'Pel said. "We have already been through one very dangerous situation so far, and our journey is only half over. And we have no clear idea what awaits us once we reach the Delta Quadrant."  
  
Unable to argue with such cool logic, B'Elanna nevertheless protested, "But to present it to her like this, as a fairy tale--"  
  
"These are beliefs ingrained in Klingon culture, are they not? It is my impression Lieutenant Ishtak is merely acquainting Miral with a part of her heritage."  
  
"But there are better ways to do so!" B'Elanna snapped.  
  
T'Pel inclined her head. "It is your decision, Commander. She is, after all, your daughter."  
  
"Damn straight she is," B'Elanna said, and tugging on Miral's hand, pulled her down the corridor.  
  
*  
  
Despite her fury, B'Elanna hesitated for a moment outside the cabin door before signaling. "Enter," called a deep masculine voice.  
  
Ishtak looked up in surprise when she came in. "Commander Torres, I did not expect to see you. Please, have a seat."  
  
B'Elanna nodded curtly and sat down on the couch, noticing the varied Klingon weapons hanging on the walls. "I want to speak to you about Miral."  
  
"A lovely and precocious child. You are very lucky to have her."  
  
"Yes, I am." B'Elanna took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "But as Miral's mother, she is my responsibility and I don't like the kinds of things you are teaching her."  
  
Ishtak raised a brow in an almost Vulcan manner. "Such as?"  
  
"Those stories you've been telling her. Gre'thor with its fiery rivers and spirits, glorifying being killed in battle--"  
  
Ishtak interrupted. "I also pointed out that one of the lessons Kahless taught is that living well, with honor, is even more important than dying--that life is to be cherished."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it," B'Elanna said sarcastically. "It's good to know Kahless found the time to send a few morally upright messages while he was busy defeating armies single-handedly, slaying and skinning serpents--"  
  
Ishtak's brows drew together in a formidable scowl. "And Terran children's stories contain nothing objectionable? No mentions of children being killed and eaten by witches, or left to fend for themselves alone in a forest?" He drew himself up to his full height. "If it's 'morally upright' messages you're concerned with, what about the tale of how Kahless fought his brother Morath for 12 days and 12 nights because Morath had lied and brought shame to his family? And I also told Miral the story of Kahless using his bat'leth to harvest his father's fields and carve a statue of his beloved." He exhaled sharply. "Contrary to _your_ belief, Klingon legends are not all about blood and war."  
  
B'Elanna didn't try to debate the issue. Instead she said, "Look, you may not agree with how I'm raising her, may feel I'm neglecting my child's education and that as a 'real' Klingon you have to step in and rectify the situation." She paused, trying not to say something she would later regret. "But frankly, it's none of your damn business!"  
  
"That's not what I'm trying to do," protested Ishtak. "Believe me, Commander, that was never my intention. Far be it from me to try to interfere with the way you choose to rear your daughter." His air of innocence seemed genuine, but she wasn't ready to believe him.  
  
"Then why do you spend so much time with Miral?" demanded B'Elanna. "Why do you tell her all these stories?"  
  
Ishtak was silent for a moment, as if considering his words. "I like children," he said simply. "I like spending time with Miral." He began to pace, as if he felt constrained within the small space. "Let me tell you a little bit about myself, Commander. My family lived on a small Klingon colony world, Turgon. Perhaps you've heard of it."  
  
"I have," B'Elanna acknowledged. "It's quite a distance from Qo'noS."  
  
He nodded. "Then perhaps you also know that the colony was attacked and destroyed during the war. It happened shortly after my ship was lost--I did not even learn of their deaths until well after the fact, due to my own injuries. By the time I voiced the ritual death howl, their ashes were long since cold and scattered by the wind." He stopped, the pain--even after all these years--still clearly written in his features. "I lost my wife and two children. My son, Krast, had recently undergone his warrior's ceremony. My daughter, Prabsa, was much younger. She was only a little older than your Miral is now." He sighed heavily. "My brother also died that same day, along with his entire family." As if to himself, he added, "My great-uncle, head of the House, is still alive, but he is a widower who lost six sons in the war. The once proud House of Klaa is dying out, I am afraid. I sometimes wonder, once I myself am gone, if there will be anyone left."  
  
"I'm sorry," whispered B'Elanna. "I didn't know."  
  
"So you see, Commander, spending time with Miral helps me see what my own daughter would have been like, lets me imagine the discoveries she'd be making as she learns about the world." He smiled, his eyes lit by some warm memory. "I always used to love stories, sitting at my father's knee, hearing the old legends over and over again. I think I enjoyed them even more when the time came for me to pass them on to my own children. Even after Krast had become a man he would still ask me to tell him again about the battle of the Great Hall at Qam-Chee." His eyes met hers. "I have a need to share these tales; in a way, it helps me keep the memories of my loved ones alive."  
  
"I can understand," B'Elanna said. Some of the anger she had been feeling drained out of her, and she realized she owed him an apology--and an explanation. "What I said before...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have leaped down your throat like that. It's just when she mentioned Sto-Vo-Kor--something just snapped. The last thing I want is for her to glorify death."  
  
"Would you rather she feared it?"  
  
"No," she said slowly. "No, you're right. Especially considering the potential dangers we're facing."  
  
"It was never my intention to harm her in any way," Ishtak said, his sincerity evident in his voice.  
  
"Your spending time with Miral _has_ been beneficial for her," B'Elanna admitted. "And yes, I really should have been teaching my daughter about her Klingon heritage myself. It's just..." she hesitated. "For most of my life I wasn't very comfortable with my Klingon 'self.' Growing up on Kessik was hard; I always felt like an outsider. My mother and I were the only Klingons there. I used to wish I was fully human. I used to blame my Klingon half for everything that went wrong, like my father leaving us when I was just a young girl." She stopped again. "I was wrong, of course, but it took me a long time to realize that. When I grew old enough to leave home, my mother and I, well, let's just say that that we didn't part on such good terms, and for a long time I turned my back on anything Klingon. In fact, it wasn't until recently, when Tom and I went to Qo'noS and I had a chance to become acquainted with my mother's family, that I really felt like I belonged, that I fully accepted both sides of my heritage." She swallowed hard. "It wasn't a conscious decision on my part to emphasize Miral's Terran roots to the exclusion of everything else. I never really thought much about it, it just worked out that way."  
  
"It's only natural," Ishtak said, "considering that Miral's father is human, and you spend the majority of your time among humans." He held up his hands. "No criticism intended."  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "None taken. Though perhaps I should have been more aware of what I was teaching her--and what I wasn't." She paused. "So I guess I'm grateful to you, Ishtak, for sharing your stories with her."  
  
"No, it is I who am grateful to you and your husband," Ishtak corrected her, "for allowing me to do this. But if it makes you uncomfortable, if you feel it puts you in an untenable position, I will stop."  
  
"No," B'Elanna said. "Please, don't stop." She added, a bit shyly. "The only thing I ask is, could you tell me some of the tales, too? You see, it's been a very long time since I heard them at my mother's knee..."

  
  
THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the VVS7.5 staff for their assistance with this story.


	3. "Vissi d'Arte"

**A VOYAGER VIRTUAL SEASON 7.5 INTERLUDE - Episode 40b**  
**  
** **Vissi d'Arte**

** _  
_ ** **by Christina**

  
  
_**USS Voyager II -- October 10, 2381, Stardate 57775.8 (2300)**_  
  
Doctor Mark Zimmerman nodded as he checked the time. Twenty-three hundred hours. Exactly. Time for a little golf. "Computer, transfer EMH to Holodeck Two."  
  
He reappeared and frowned. Then rechecked the time. One minute after the hour. The holodeck was in use--and whoever was here had rudely overstayed his or her time. He noted the simple theater and the fact he was in the wings. He started to call out, but stopped, transfixed, as music filled the hall.  
  
He recognized the music; it was from the second act of _Tosca_. A soprano joined in. A glorious sound. Curiosity drove him forward. Who else on the crew shared his love of opera? Who had such a voice? He stopped to enjoy the swelling music as an anguished character sang about how cruelly fate has treated her; how she had devoted her life to art, love, and prayer. He let the music wash over him. Then it was over.  
  
"Brava," he called out after a second of silence. Then he repeated it. A woman appeared in the darkness.  
  
"Doctor? Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. I must have forgotten to set the timer. Forgive me, please?"  
  
"Ensign Stevens?" He hesitated. The young, dark haired woman stumbled as she started to gather up her stuff. "No, please, don't go. Where did you learn to sing? That was divine."  
  
"I had lessons." She dropped her towel. "I'm so sorry. You won't report me for cutting into your holodeck time?"  
  
He smiled. "Only if you sing for me, again."  
  
She stared at him. "What?"  
  
"Sing...You know, encore! Encore!"  
  
"You really think I'm good?"  
  
"So good, that I want to ask, what are you doing in Starfleet?"  
  
"Tradition," Ensign Marie Stevens glanced at the floor. "There wasn't much choice, since my third great grandfather was Vice Admiral Cutler: all the family have chosen careers in Starfleet."  
  
"And what did you want?"  
  
She smiled. "My teacher said I needed to choose between singing and science. My family has already decided for me." She again glanced at the floor. "What do you want me to sing?"  
  
He hesitated, there were so many choices. _"Sempre Libera."_  
  
_"Traviatta_ it is." She ordered the orchestra to play, then she joined in.  
  
The Doctor stood, entranced.

  
  
The End  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "Vissi d'Arte" is the aria from "Tosca" which Ensign Stevens is singing so beautifully. Literally, the song's title means, "I lived in art." 
> 
> (translation by Google)


	4. "Knowing We Must Say Goodbye"

**A Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 Interlude: Episode 40c**

**Knowing We Must Say Goodbye**

  
**By Penny**   
  


**_USS Odyssey -- October 31, 2381, Stardate 57833.2 (2258)_**  
  
Geordi La Forge stood at the replicator in his quarters, trying to decide whether to add a shot of synthehol to his cup of coffee. It was late, but one habit of chief engineers everywhere that he had never been able to kick was drinking coffee at all hours of the day; a small shot would add a celebratory note. The task force had arrived at New Earth that afternoon, and the real work of the Delta Quadrant mission was about to begin. Still, he had some paperwork to finish up and hoped to finish it sooner rather than later. He finally made up his mind. “Coffee, black and sweet.”   
  
The replicator obliged, and with cup in hand, he started to return to his desk. He paused to look outside his viewport. Below _Odyssey,_ the planet known as New Earth was half in light and half in darkness. He tried to imagine the same view in a year, when the darkness would be punctuated by the lights of the homes of the colonists. He made a mental note to remember to look.  
  
Before he reached his desk, the door chime sounded. He was startled; no one casually dropped in on a ship’s captain at 2300 hours. “Who is it?” he asked.  
  
“It’s Kathryn Janeway, Geordi,” came the familiar voice of _Voyager II’s_ commander. “I know it’s late, but may I come in?”  
  
Surprised, Geordi wondered why she was on board _Odyssey_ at this hour. Perhaps she'd come to discuss her plan for _Pioneer_ to remain in orbit here while _Voyager_ and _Odyssey_ traveled on to Ocampa, to complete surveys and finalize plans for building the New Earth colonies. The final decision was to be made at a meeting in the morning. But she could have simply called about that. “Of course, come in,” he responded.  
  
When the door opened, though, he saw that Janeway was not alone. Oddly, Sam Lavelle was with her, and neither were wearing their standard duty uniform. Instead, the identical uniforms consisted of gray pants and tunic with thin black piping on the sleeves, worn over a black turtleneck with the rank pips on its collar. The only color came from the service ribbons they each wore. As they entered, Janeway looked somber and Sam looked very uncomfortable. Once in the cabin, they stood side by side, and Sam was as stiff as a cadet at attention.  
  
Geordi realized they were wearing the service gray uniform. He had one just like it. It was used for only one purpose.   
  
He knew then exactly why they had come. They were delivering an official notification of the death of a Starfleet officer to the next of kin. And for Geordi, there was only one person that could be.   
  
“Dad?” he asked, his mouth dry.  
  
Standing quite still, Kathryn Janeway answered, her voice formal yet compassionate as she spoke the prescribed words. "The commander-in-chief of Starfleet has entrusted me to express his deep regret that your father, Commander Edward M. La Forge, died in a shuttlecraft accident in the Modean system on Stardate 57791.3. He was en route to the primary observation station on the planet Sindar in the Modean system when the shuttlecraft encountered some difficulty and crashed into the mountains on the southern continent. All aboard were killed. The commander-in-chief extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your loss."   
  
The required formality completed, she added in a warmer tone, “I’m so sorry, Geordi.”   
  
For a moment Geordi couldn’t speak. He just received a letter from his father in the most recent mail delivery, so it was hard to believe he could be dead. He took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance this is a mistake? Did they actually find his body?”  
  
“I’m afraid there’s no mistake,” Janeway replied. “There were six people on board, and they recovered all six. DNA scans confirmed the identities.”  
  
He nodded, accepting what she said even though it still didn’t feel real. “Do they know what happened?”  
  
“Not yet,” she said. “At least, not officially. Unofficially, they suspect some kind of problem with the navigational system or pilot error. The report will be available in a few weeks.”  
  
Geordi was still struggling to believe this was real. “What was he doing in the Modean system? He’s stationed at Headquarters. He hasn’t been on the Modean Invertebrate Project for years.”  
  
Janeway shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”  
  
Sam, who had been silent until now, extended his hand; it held a PADD. “This is a letter from your sister. They asked us to deliver it after you were notified. It may have more details.”  
  
Geordi took the PADD, thinking of his sister, alone on Earth. Once again, she would have to plan a memorial service by herself, without his help. He wouldn’t be able to return to the Alpha Quadrant in time. “Thank you,” he said.  
  
“Is there anything we can do for you, Geordi?” Janeway asked kindly. “We can stay if you’d like to talk about this – or anything.”  
  
“No. Thank you, but no. I’d like to read this by myself.” Then he added, “Thank you for this. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you.”  
  
Lavelle looked a little relieved, and Geordi guessed that this was the first time he had ever been tapped for notification duty. Despite Sam’s experience in the wars, official notifications were rarely made by junior officers on active duty. Combined with the fact his first notification was to his commanding officer, it was no wonder he was uncomfortable. Janeway, much more experienced in the rituals of death, just looked sympathetic. “This duty is an honor, but a sad one. Geordi,” she hesitated for just a moment before placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I also lost my father in an accident. The offer to talk is open indefinitely.”  
  
“I appreciate it,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”  
  
She nodded once, and turned to leave; Sam Lavelle said, “I’m really sorry, Captain,” and followed her out.  
  
Geordi took a deep breath, trying to process this news. He knew it was true, but somehow, he couldn’t get his mind to accept it. All his life, he had been accustomed to long separation from one or both parents; it was part of being a “Starfleet brat.” Sometimes he and Ariana had lived with their father while his mother was on a deep space assignment, and sometimes they lived with their mother while Edward was involved in one of the deep-immersion exozoology projects on some primitive planet. His parents’ absences were a part of life, but with the underlying assumption that both were safe and he would see them again.  
  
Now his father was dead, his mother was missing and presumed dead, and he and Ariana were all that was left. It was too hard to grasp.  
  
He sat down and opened the PADD with the letter from his sister.

>   
_Dear Geordi,_   
  
_Starfleet promised me you would get the official notification before you see this, and I am so relieved that I do not have to be the one to break the news to you. It seems so unfair that I can’t be with you right now, but I guess that’s Starfleet. I hate that you are so far away that we can’t even talk and instead I have to write you a letter. That’s why I didn’t join Starfleet, I guess. I want some permanence in life and proximity to my loved ones. _   
  
_But I digress. You are probably wondering what Dad was doing in the Modean system again. He had a great assignment on Earth, working with the Endangered Species task force and he told me (did he tell you, too?) that he had decided to retire when his current enlistment expired next year. His plan was to continue on the team as a civilian. He also was developing an interest in one of the other scientists, a lovely woman named Abba. But a couple of weeks ago, one of the exozoologists on the Modean invertebrate project developed xenopolycythemia and had to withdraw temporarily to get treatment. Starfleet offered Dad the chance to fill in for her, and of course he said yes. He loved his time on that project years ago and was thrilled to get back to it, even for six weeks._   
  
_The shuttle was taking Dad, another scientist and two observers to the observation laboratory on Sindar. Nobody knows yet what caused the crash; the pilot never sent a distress call. Starfleet isn’t saying much, but there is a team combing through everything. You remember the mountain range on Sindar, I’m sure; Dad took us to the lab a couple of times when we lived on Modea. The peaks are completely shrouded in fog and cloud cover almost all the time. If the nav system malfunctioned, the pilot could have miscalculated their altitude and just slammed into them. From the condition of the wreckage, that seems to be the most likely explanation. _   
  
_But at least this time, we know for certain. They were able to positively identify all the remains. I guess that’s one blessing. We don’t have to live with wondering for years, like we did with Mom. Or maybe I should say, like Dad and I did. It sounds like you are still wondering and even hoping that you will find her in the Delta Quadrant. Oh, Geordi, I wish you would just accept that Mom and the Hera are gone forever. At least then, you could move on. _   
  
_Which leads me to Dad’s wishes. He left instructions with me about his memorial service. He wanted it to be small, low key and very soon after his death so that – and these are his exact words – “my loved ones can have closure.” So I’m going to hold the service in three days, which means it will likely have happened by the time you receive this. If there had been any reasonable chance of you returning to Earth for it, I would have waited. But since you can’t be here in person or even via comm in real time, there was no point in delaying. This leaves you to find your own way to grieve, and I am sorry about that. Just remember that whatever you do, I am grieving with you._   
  
_Don’t worry about me. I am not alone. I’d been holding off telling you, but Dante and I are expecting a baby, and we’re getting married soon. We’ve been together three years now and we both have tenure at the university, so I am looking forward to a stable family situation for years to come. This is something I’ve wanted my whole life. Watching Mom and Dad go through so many forced separations and then trying to get used to each other again before the next Starfleet separation – I don’t know how they managed to stay together through all of that, and it’s definitely not what I want out of a marriage._   
  
_I’m not a religious person, but Dante is, and he tells me that I should be happy Mom and Dad are together again in another plane of existence. It would be comforting to believe that. But at least we know that there was nothing left unsaid between us. He loved us, and he knew we loved him. He was proud of us, and he knew we were proud of him. That is the comfort I am taking._   
  
_Write soon, little brother. I want to know how you are doing and when you will be home again. _
> 
> _ Much love, _   
  
_Ari_   
  


Geordi looked up from the PADD, his eyes dry. That was one thing about artificial eyes, they didn’t include tear ducts. If he could, he would have been crying; Ari’s words made it real. His father was dead.  
  
A flood of memories tumbled through his mind, one blurring into the next:

> \--he wasn’t yet five years old, and he was blind and he was terrified. There was fire all around him; he could smell the smoke and feel the heat and hear the crackle, but he was too scared to move until, suddenly, he felt his father lift him up and tell him it would be all right and take him out of the building to his mother -  
  
\--he woke up for the first time with his VISOR and “saw” his father, Edward’s voice connecting with the strange images his brain was receiving -  
  
\--he was ten, and walking beside Edward and Ariana in the lab on Sindar, listening to his father’s excited running commentary on the invertebrates they were observing -  
  
\--he was in his Ensign’s uniform for the first time as his parents, beaming with joy and pride that he could discern through his VISOR, watched as he graduated from Starfleet Academy –  
  
\--his father, gray-haired and showing signs of age, telling him over the comm, “I’m proud of you - ”

  
He blinked, drew a shaky breath and tried to focus on something else. What did he need to do right now? He needed to write to Leah about this. Ariana didn’t approve of his relationship with Leah and probably hadn’t told her about the memorial service, or he would have received a letter from her as well as Ari. If she’d known, Leah would have gone in his place. He loved his sister, but once she got an idea in her head, she could be intractable. It wasn’t that she objected to Leah; no, the problem was Geordi’s career. Ari believed it was unfair for Geordi to have a serious relationship with anyone while he was still in Starfleet.  
  
He found himself getting irritated with Ari, and then realized he was just deflecting. She was right about one thing: he had never found a way to say goodbye to his mother; he believed there was a chance she was still alive even though her ship disappeared nearly a dozen years ago -- possibly a victim of the Caretaker, just like _Voyager_ and _Equinox_. He knew it was time to say goodbye to his father; he just didn’t know how.  
  
He tried to re-focus. What did he need to do in the short term? Oh, yes, write to Leah. He wished she were here with him now. He could use a dose of her healthy common sense mixed with compassion. But that was impossible, so what else? His mind went blank.   
  
The blankness was interrupted by his door chime. Again? “Who is it?” he called irritably.  
  
“Alyssa,” came the voice of Dr. Ogawa. “Captain Janeway brought me a letter from Bev Crusher. She told me about your father. I thought you might want some company.”  
  
He started to say no, he would prefer to be alone, but stopped himself. This was Alyssa, who had known him longer than anyone else on _Odyssey._ Like him, Alyssa had chosen a life in Starfleet, with its forced separations, daily risks and unexpected losses. If anyone understood what that meant, it was Alyssa. She had loved Andy Powell fiercely, but he was killed while they were on different assignments. She had found a way to grieve, accept and say goodbye.  
  
“Come in,” he said at last. “I’d like to talk.”   
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: The title “Knowing We Must Say Goodbye” is a bit of the lyrics of “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” from the musical “Phantom of the Opera.” 

**Author's Note:**

> **Next Up: "Disciples of Altruism," by Christina, Penny, and jamelia**\--Just as representatives of the Vidiian Sodality, the Ocampa, and the United Federation of Planets prepare to sign the new treaty allowing for the colonization of New Earth, the discovery of a derelict ship leaves Kathryn Janeway questioning what the Vidiians truly want from this alliance.


End file.
